Sneak Peek at Michelin Pro 3

If the Michelin Man (Bib?) ate a bunch of Skittles and then threw them up in the photo cube, it might look something like this:


Any questions?

22 Days Until Halloween: Do You Know Where Your Children Are?

(left to right: George Bush and the Easter Bunny. Both have been marginalized this October)
Good news everybody! Only 22 days until Halloween. That also means 22 more days of unnecessary cubicle decorations! We'll start slow with the random skull or Simpsons Halloween set and slowly pick up speed adding candy corn cauldrons, witches with Twizzlers for hair, miniature carved pumpkins bearing the likenesses of our favorite outside sales reps and a REAL coffin full of candy and perhaps a corpse (made of candy) that isn't made of candy!

Pastor Troy (inside sales) has gotten into the spirit of the holidays as he proudly displays a skull with candles in its forehead. Not only does it celebrate Halloween, it also celebrates his Louisiana roots. Louisiana tradition dictates a young cajunlin' place a skull under the Gumbo Tree on Halloween Eve. At the stroke of midnight, Gator Claus parks his fan boat on the roof and slithers down the chimney and fills the house with singing crawfish. The Gator Claus consumes the child's parents, gathers up his singing crawfish into a leather sack and slithers back up the chimney and into his fan boat. Zydeco music is heard as the now orphaned cajunlin' is left to fend for himself in the merciless swamp. Troy is often heard in the breakroom singing sad cajun songs to mourn his parents. His best song is "Gator Claus Took My Daddy to Heaven" as it showcases his fine tenor voice.
The first Simpsons Halloween set every released! Money well spent...

Tonight, after "America's Next Top Model", a brand new episode of "Fun Facts About Macon, Georgia!"

A quiz for today's post:
Can you, without the aid of Google or Wikipedia, name four "totally awesome" things to come out of Macon (GA)? The first "totally awesome" THING is Nancy Grace. She is a thing if there ever was a thing. Now she hosts a TV show on Headline News where she berates defense attorneys and bugs her eyes out at me, accusingly, yet I cannot look away.

(Born and raised in Macon GA, Nancy Grace has single-handedly united the free world against us with only 60 minutes of airtime every evening!)
The second thing out of Macon, Georgia is their defunct minor league hockey team, the Macon Whopee. Hands down the corniest franchise "mascot" of all time. How can the 1970's TV game show equivalent to the physical act of love be a mascot? It displeases me, yet I cannot look away from their vaguely suggestive jersey! The blog will burn the midnight oil scouring Ebay for that gem.

(The very jersey you can't outbid the blog on Ebay.)
The third best thing out of Macon is philanthropist/humanitarian/epistemologist Young Jeezy (well, ambassador Jeezy to his compatriots at the UN). I'm sure we're all familiar with his brokering of the Dayton peace accords so I'll move along to the fourth "totally awesome" thing to come out of Macon: Thomson! You saw it coming. How could it not be Thomson. As we all know, 99 percent of stems and seat posts are made overseas. Don't you want to help us turn the tide of a multi-billion dollar trade deficit? If you nodded your empty skull in zombie-like agreement, then put a Thomson on your bike and feel the backwood Georgia patriotism coursing through your veins!!!

(Left to right: Former UN Secretary General Bhoutros Bhoutros Ghali; he WAS the street dream. Young Jeezy; he IS the street dream)

This IS the mountain bike stem street dream!

Gotta Get Something Down, On Paper

It's a Tuesday afternoon and your co-workers are huddled around the proverbial water cooler. Talk centers on that day's lunch of ultra-spicy huevos rancheros or that barbecue pork loin sandwich you wolfed down with a cheese fry chaser. Maybe it's a rancid cold cut combo footlong prepared by a nostril-less troglodyte at Subway (shudder) or lacking proper funds to exchange for goods and services, you've swallowed what's left of your pride and gone poking around the company cupboard, scrounging together a repast of stale croutons and cooking shortening (known as "vochkhar khorovadz" in the Caucuses, primarily Azerbaijan in the Wilder Regions).

A most unsavory repast, but sustenance nonetheless. Well, a few hours have passed and the wonders of peristalsis have forced your hand yet again. With sweat on the brow but with courage in your barbecue-clogged heart, you venture to the corporate washroom to "let slip the dogs of war". But what to do once the colonic tempest has ceased?... You paint! You paint by numbers and create a masterpiece, ephemeral and super-nasty, but a masterpiece, without question, without peer, without PAINT!!!

Thanks to Crumpler bags for, uh, this... abomination:

The color options made me throw up in my mind. How about you?

On a related note (absolutely not), while driving into work to set the distribution world upon its head yet again, the blog heard a really cool story about bike messengers in Kabul, Afghanistan on NPR. The catch, besides messaging in a dangerous part of the world, is that these messengers are missing limbs as a result of land mines. Give it a listen. Very interesting and will be useful in cleansing your mental palette of images of Crumpler toilet paper escapades: Kabul Bike Messengers

Temporarily Out of Order

Will resume normal blogging functions tomorrow. One third of the blog "team" is out with a chest cold of diabolical proportions. Anybody got a spare lung? Anybody got a spare blog post they'd like to share?

Blatant Mr. Bill Rip-Off

"Hey ya'll! What smells sooo good? Oh, it's my delicious body! My name is Hush Puppy Noggin French Fry Goeppner-Cross! I am the love child spawned from a tumultuous and pants-free Interbike romance out there in the Nevada desert! I'm fried, delicious and a registered Republican who likes the ladies! If you want to learn more 'bout me, you can send me an email at hushpuppywookiekisser@gmail.com. Go ahead, it's a real email address! I'm computer literate ya'll!"


"I'll just stretch out here under Kenny's desk. Feels good to rest these tired fries!"
"Oh Lord, I have underestimated my benefactor's kindness!"
"Oooh, my delicious dried body!"
"You got some conditioner? My hush puppy is a mess!"
"All better! Better strap myself in for the ride home to Atlanta with my two Dads, Ian and Dave!"

COMMUTER BIKE OF THE WEEK...

Signs of the apocalypse come in all shapes and sizes. Seven seals perhaps or four guys on horses riding around doing naughty things. Pestilence? Global War? General acceptance of bib shorts worn on top of jerseys? All of these most definitely portend the end of the world, but we have a new one to add to the list: Troy Whelan (inside sales. AKA The Cajun Assassin and the pride of McNeese St.) commuted into work on his Storck! To be fair, Troy rode in several months ago during bike to work week. Since then, a merciless campaign of trash talking has been waged against Troy in an attempt to get him back on his bike and riding to work. Our verbal harangues must've penetrated his thick alligator-skin because as the blog strolled into the office this morning, there was Troy in a riding kit next to his trusty steed! First thought was "There were so many things I wanted to do before I died! I bet it'll be an asteroid". Second thought was "I have a nasty head cold. If I make it to the afterlife, will I have this stupid head cold for eternity? Surely there's a pharmacy up there. What if there isn't? Then what? Seems kinda unfair. I shall need to research this before the asteroid wipes us out, but first, a delicious Clif Bar for breakfast" Third thought was "Good for Troy! Good for the blog as well as it is easy pickin' for today's post!"

15.something pounds
Zipp cranks and red spoke nipples
Selle Italia, where the "magic" happens

From The Interbike Scrapbook of Dave Carson

A distant cousin of Ansel Adams and former babysitter of Robert Mapplethorpe, it's no surprise that Dave Carson's (Purchasing Dictator) skills with a camera are legendary. The scope of his subject matter is limitless. Airports, dimly-lit convention centers... While some photographers may ask "Why?", Dave asks "Why not, guy?" Here is a brief sampling from his newest volume "Unfettering The Bounds of Tomorrow; Soliloquy of Freedom: Interbike Retrospective of Dave Carson"

Jose, Ian and Jim wait in line. Why is Ian wearing sunglasses inside?
More waiting, this time with Brian in tow. Jim smiles after beating Ninja Gaiden for the 9th time on his Gameboy Advance.
Jose remembers the time his parents abandoned him at an airport and slips into a deep depression. Jim continues to play Ninja Gaiden, heartlessly.
A "Margin"-al display! EH? EH?
The Hawley Company set-up, minus the naked people.
Derrick discovers two Laotian immigrants stowing away in a cargo box. They are given clean clothes, fed, inoculated, repackaged and shipped to Marcus Storck. His love of Laotians is legendary.
Director of Storck USA Operations (and publisher emeritus of Storck's magazine "Just Storckin' Around") Dave G. flaunts his paper airplane-making ability. Nobody likes a show off Dave. On the floor is Jose making a crude drawing of the family who abandoned him in an airport. Let it go dude, let it go...
Here's Bruce. Make up your own caption, slacker.

Ode To A Dinosaur Egg

More unusual product tomfoolery from Interbike. Today's offering is the latest bit of yumminess from Clif, the Clif Rock! Jim plunked it down on my desk and waited for my usual bout of verbal diarrhea associated with weird nutrition products. Well it didn't happen because for once, I was speechless...without speech. My first thought was, "Why is there a prehistoric dinosaur egg on my desk?" My second thought was "skee-bop-boo-dop-bop-bee-beeeee-bop-woo-weee" as I am prone to jazz scatting when presented with the mysterious. the unknown, the spheroid. Jim recognized my confusion and assured me (in scat) that the mystery dino-egg/rock was edible. Not only was it edible, but it was packed with loads of nutritional goodness that assists recovery. To be honest, the blog is freaked out...


Clif Rock in its natural habitat

Welcome Back To Monday

Not much going on in the hallowed halls of Hawley today. The purchasing crew arrived back from Interbike with glazed looks and tired brains, feeling the effects of 20 hour flights and interminable delays of Satre-ian levels. Want to hear an entertaining tale of airline travel gone horribly awry? Just ask Brian or Dave, although Jose's version is the best since it comes with a complimentary dessert voucher (what can I say, the man knows how to treat his adoring fans). Lowlights for the blog are as follows:
The new adjustable seat post collar from Miche furious George brought back. The inside sleeve adjusts to accept an alloy post or carbon post. Just rotate the arrow to your desired "setting" and you're ready to rock. Comes in Grappa and unscented.

From Sandy, a suspicious nutrition offering from Squeezy Gel! Why suspicious? Well, the packaging shows Levi Leipheimer in a Gerolsteiner kit. The blog isn't keen on road racing, but knows Leipheimer left Gerolsteiner a while back to play second fiddle to Contador. So the question is, how old is this bar of "joghurt kirsch"? The second question is, will I eat this for lunch? You bet your sweet bitty! (late ed. it was indeed older than previously thought, but that made it all the better, like a finely aged cheese or wine)
Although nobody the blog knows did the industry crit race, Cane Creek well-wisher and all around good guy/parts engineer Jim Morrison (yes, the dead guy) dominated MASH SF ringer Garret in the finals of the gold sprints. Flip flops, baggy shorts and a t-shirt that screams "I have no moral or ethical scruples" matched up against one of the most feared hipster-cyclist-messengers ever to come out of the city that gave us Huey Lewis, The Zodiac Killer and Margaret Cho! 1000 meters was the distance and according to the MASH blog, it was .10 of a second that separated them. So to loosely translate, East Coast punked West Coast in a retributive grudge match that could be loosely called "This Is For Killing Biggie Smalls You California Hippies!". Did Jim start a new East Coast/West Coast feud? I certainly hope so. I certainly hope so. Hawley got ya back J. Mo!!!

Jim gets in the zone while MASH guy tries to strangle himself
Jim claims victory for the East coast, and for all his souljas at Tha Creek.

Philip. Michael. Thomas. 'Nuff Said

Well, it's the end of another week at Hawley and we're all here, alive, and in one piece. That was a confusing sentence because it sounds like all of us are conjoined in some sort of massive Borg-ish (Borg-esque, Borgnine?) bicycle entity, a group collective of sorts. I can't give you a definitive answer to the status of what we've turned into, but I know we've removed the "women" and "men" signs from the bathrooms and replaced them with signs that say "Us" and "We" (Weeee!). But I digress.

"What's the mpg on that cube? Oh crap, you're gonna assimilate me aren't you???"
The weekend is almost here and that means it's time to ride your bicycle and pace nervously to and fro, thinking about which bank will go under Monday morning (or Sunday night). But don't let our impending financial apocalypse get you down. It appears, according to liberal muckraker "The Economist", that bicycle production has outpaced car production as more folks around the world look for transportation alternatives. Unfortunately, a large portion of those bikes are made overseas which doesn't bolster our domestic bicycle production and just adds to a growing trade deficit, but that's a topic for another blog. Now if only bike LANE production outpaced road and highway production...

(in the original picture, the cyclist is completely naked. WHY????)

BIG UPS to our friends at Burley trailers for clearly inspiring Tom Toles of the Washington Post (yet another left-wing scandal rag). It's obvious to the blog that Bush's trailer is actually a modified Burley Honeybee! Well Mr. Toles, if that is your real name, you and your liberal cronies will be hearing from our lawyers as well as Burley's! On a related and extremely salient note, the blog needs a Burley Flatbed trailer for 2009 if his dream of starting his mobile DJ-party-bike business is to come to fruition. Send cash and check donations to the blog. With your help, we'll keep the blog's neighborhood awash with the sounds of Great White and Phillip Michael Thomas through 2009... and beyond!
(ed. note: just because your neighbors listen to Maroon 5 doesn't mean you have to wage some sort of "bad music war". )
(the blog: Philip Michael Thomas's work deserves recognition!)


("Living the Book Of My Life", setting the standard since 1985)

COMMUTER BIKE OF THE WEEK...

You may recall, if you read this blog with religious dedication ("dedication", it's what you lazy slug of a landless serf's sheep turd may only dream of as you wile away the hours in your dial-up internet shanty... you share with six others) that Will "The G" (warehouse wunderkind) first began his long commutes to work on a Litespeed road bike. Well, those days are gone, long gone. "He bought an auto-coach of some variety? Surely a Levasser two stroke!" you may ask. Not even close you blathering spatherdab! It seems Master Will, at the suggestion of an anonymous benefactor, telegraphed the good folk ("folk", a polite way of referring to the cycling riffraff who ply their trade in the Vulcanic arts, conjuring fire and alchemizing metal in deference to a Roman god or two) at Van Dessel and said "Look here! I need a cross frame and I need it within a fortnight. If you can have it hear any earlier, I'll increase your fee by a shiny nickel and decrease the number of times my maple walking stick cracks your backside! I await your reply!" Less than a fortnight later, the Hole Shot (use your imagination, cretin) arrived by post and there was much rejoicing. A few well-placed employee purchases and Will had a cross-commuter fit for a king... or queen. Good luck with your surgery next week Will!

Notice the Planet Bike SPOK headlight!
Sram handlebar plugs and Truvativ crankset. Does it get any better?

Vulcan asks the Van Dessel workshop to "work harder" and "always dress for safety"

Car Vs. Bicycle... Round 3

Another week in Columbia, another bicycle related accident. This time however, the driver was not at fault and it appears to be "non-fatal". However, a blog must wonder what some folks are thinking when they spit out nonsense like this (from the "comments" section of a local news channel's coverage of the incident):

The Purchasing Staff Is Gone... Turn Down the Lights and Turn Up the Menudo

With so much going on within the nooks and crannies of the Hawley company in addition to the Interbike hysteria, today's post, in all honesty, lacks "quality" bicycle content. Nevertheless, the "quality" music-loved-by-the-blog content is through the roof. First of all, even though I'm a day late with this, it appears My Bloody Valentine has extended their one-off reunion at All Tomorrow's Parties to include 7 more North American tour dates. No shows in the Dirty South so a road trip might be in order. Let us all bow down at the altar of rawk. Also of note, Pavement has re-released "Brighten the Corners". Not their best album, but in line with previous re-releases, there are plenty of unreleased and live tracks to stoke a listener's interest. "What about the voice of Geddy Lee? How did it get so high? I wonder if he speaks like an ordinary guy?"... Also of note, is Pitchfork Music's list of "Worst Album Covers of All Time". Lots of mustaches and fuchsia, just like professional cycling. You've been warned.